


all we trapped ragdoll cloth people

by the_open_future



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Colonist (Mass Effect), Gen, Mindoir, chapter one takes place before the raid, chapters two and three take place during the raid, implied character deaths (OCs), life on Mindoir, references to violence and death, the hours before the raid, the raid on Mindoir, traumatic events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_open_future/pseuds/the_open_future
Summary: June 30, 2170 (a Thursday): The day Batarian slavers raided the colony on Mindoir.Ch. 1 a spacecraft: The hours before the raid.Ch. 2 you run: During the raid.Ch. 3 and so we crumble: During the raid.





	1. a spacecraft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hours before the raid.

About that day: a summer day. The sun’s been up for barely an hour when she awakes, and it’s already the kind of hot that cloys and sticks to everything. The clothes she was supposed to pick up yesterday still lay scattered on her bedroom floor. Micah, still asleep in his room; her father in the kitchen, making coffee and talking half to himself about his upcoming day; her mother, scanning headlines on her data-pad. Toast and an apple, then it’s time for her morning run. Drover’s already panting by the door, ready to go, a good dog. She laces her shoes, tight, and bounces lightly on her heels. Stretches. Assures her parents she’ll tidy up once she’s back, a preemptive defense against familiar admonishment.

“See ya later mom, dad,” she calls as the door wooshes open, then shuts again behind her.

Then it’s her and Drover and the hot humid air and the bright burning sun and the ground that falls away under their feet to the rhythm of their beating hearts.They lope past the goat pen and the greenhouse, picking up pace as they follow the well-worn footpath into the dense forest that surrounds the colony, up and up into the wooded hills, leaping over decomposing tree trunks and moss-covered stones, passing through the clearing that overlooks the colony below before circling back down to the lake at the edge of her family's’ land. She wastes no time shedding clothes; she and the Briard plunge into the cool blue water, just as they do every summer morning when skies and schedules are clear. In a little while she’d need to get back, give the goats some fresh alfalfa and help her mom weed the garden. Later she’ll track down Jace and Ciera, and they’ll hang out, watch some vids, smoke a bowl, crack bad jokes, contemplate the existential questions of the universe. Maybe she’ll invite Ollie along. Maybe she won’t.

For now, she floats on her back, watching the flickering of light and shadow that play across her closed eyelids as clouds passed between her and the still-rising sun. She lets her mind wander, her thoughts skimming the surface of ideas and plans, wishes and memories, colors and shapes. She drifts, all blurred thoughts and weightless limbs, nearly dozing. A sudden chill in the air prickles her skin; she can tell without opening her eyes that the cloud blocking the sun is a large one. Another summer storm, maybe. She should probably swim to shore just in case. She opens her eyes, blinking. Drover is barking. There is a cloud in the sky. Sharp-edged and growing larger. Moving. Moving fast.

It gets closer. It’s not a cloud.

She runs home, fast as she can, Drover at her heels.


	2. you run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Chapters 2 & 3 are more or less WIPs but I'm posting them anyway because that's just what's happening I guess.

She’s made it back home, she’s in the kitchen now. Her mom, a whirlwind of activity around her. Gathering their bags, the bottled water, the protein bars, the First Aid kits. The rifle, already slung over her mother’s back.

Micah’s sitting at the table, his eyes anxiously tracking their mother’s movements, then darting back over to her.

And she herself - she has become frozen in place, stuck, transfixed by the reports coming in over the Colonial Affairs Broadcast.

Reports say: raiders are moving in from the south.

Reports say: the gardens and the storehouses are burning.

Reports say: people are fleeing, being gunned down.

Reports say abductions, reports say cages, reports say -

“Dad’s already left for the barricade. Uncle Cody’s going there too,” Micah says, catching her eye.

So. This is it. It is happening, it is actually happening. After years of escalating worries, watching tensions with the batarians rise, scattered warnings from the Alliance, putting defense mechanisms in place just in case - should the worst happen - and trusting that the worst will never, ever happen.... The worst was happening.

Her mom hands her and Micah their backpacks, now fully stocked.

“Lira-bug, Micah-moth, listen to me.”

The freckles on her mom’s nose look just like the freckles on Micah’s nose.

Her mom tells them the plan, then makes them both repeat the plan back to her.

Run. Hide. Wait.

* * *

  _be brave be strong stay alive stay alive stay alive even if_

* * *

They are outside, the three of them and Drover. Her hair is still damp from her plunge in the lake, a lifetime ago. They are going to make a run for it. They have to get to the makeshift bunker on their cousins' land, the one they made from an old storage unit last year. Take shelter there. Hide until the batarians leave. They should have enough time. They should be able to make it before the raiders get this far north.

Micah’s hand trembles, she grabs it and holds it tight. “Will the goats be okay?” she suddenly worries aloud, thinking about Machia-Nellie, Immanuel Couldn’t, and ornery little Daisy, because if she thinks about her friends, her neighbors, the reports on the radio -

“They’re not after goats,” her mom mutters.

They run.

They’re halfway to the western edge of their land when they hear the voices. Harsh tones in a foreign tongue. Coming from the southeast.

Her legs stop moving.

Shock on her mother’s face, then fury, then determination. She signals them to crouch down low. “Lira-bug, listen,” her mother whispers.

_be brave be strong stay alive stay alive stay alive_

“Mom?”

“Take your brother and get to the bunker. Fast as you can. I’ll catch up soon.”

“Wait no what?”

“Micah-moth,” her mom says, turning her attention to her little brother. “I need you and your sister get to the bunker, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

Some distant part of her registers Micah’s solemn, tear-stained face, the slight nod of his head.

Her mom’s arms around them both. A quick flurry of kisses, pressed to their foreheads.

She tells them to go. But she can’t. She can’t. She won’t.

“Please ‘Lira. Micah. Please.”

_be brave be strong stay alive_

Those voices, they’re getting louder. Closer.

“You have to -”

Her heart thumps heavily in her chest.

Closer. She can tell from their footfalls: they’re must nearly be within sight.

“GO” 

* * *

They run, hearts pounding, mouths dry, through the woods, as fast as they can.

Drover stays back with Mom.

She only looks back once.


	3. and so we crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very WIP.

When they get to the bunker - sweating, panting - when they get to the bunker, the bunker is not safe. The door is closed - her cousins, inside? - but it is not safe.

A truck stalls outside, military-looking, not one she’d ever seen before.

And, beside the truck: not her aunt, not her cousins, not any human. Two batarians, clad in boots and armor, wielding batons, pistols clipped to their belts.

And beside the batarians, cages.

* * *

They stay low, hiding in the dense underbrush of the forest.

She’s frozen again.

Pounding, there’s pounding. Her heart’s pounding and they -

They are at the door of the bunker. Battering it. Forcing it open.

Laughing.

She clutches Micah. He grips her hand, tight, and pulls.

Right. She needs to get them out of there.

She can’t really feel her legs, but she needs to get them out of there.

Now’s the time. They shouldn't hear them, with all that commotion.

_be brave be strong stay alive stay alive  
_

Now, before the door gives -

* * *

They are running again. Her legs don’t feel like her own but they are moving her. Further into the woods.

Three shots ring out behind them; three screams, cut short.

They run.

* * *

They catch their breath behind an outcropping.

_How will Mom find them here?_

The acrid taste of vomit burns in her throat.

“Micah…”

“‘Lira?”

“Okay. Okay. We can stay here for a few moments. Rest a bit.”

“Are you still worried about the goats?”

“I.…” She kisses the top of his head. “I think they’ll be okay.”

“Mom too?”

Long moments pass before she's able to make herself reply. “Mom for sure,” she whispers.

“Where is she now?”

“I… I don’t know. I think maybe we should head to the barricade, next. Dad, dad will be there.”

“Maybe we should go home, get Mom.”

“She said she’d find us. She’ll find us, Micah.” She tries not to think - she doesn’t think he saw -

_be brave be strong stay alive_

* * *

Later, they are running again. The sound of heavy bootclad footsteps and deep voices, suddenly all too close.

They run. Every direction, a different nightmare, no safe harbor. They turn south, and south, and south, whenever they can.

Eventually they make it to the barricade. Stumbling, heaving, exhausted….

There - up ahead - Uncle Cody… and DAD - still fighting. Still fighting. Dad doesn't see them yet.

Run. _RUN._

They run, but Micah falls behind. She turns around, she reaches out for him -

Her ankle twists, she’s on the ground. Face full of dead leaves and new grass and dirt.

Micah stops when he gets to her, stares down. “Alira -”

She spits dirt and screams SCREAMS for him to run to run to RUN

She SCREAMS she screams SCREAMS

GO GO GO GO GO GO GO

He runs.

He runs.

* * *

The image of him, of Micah, drawing farther and farther away. Blurring.

Even if -

At least he -

_be brave be strong_

She pants, willing herself to get up. To follow. To make it to the barricade too -

And that’s when the world explodes.

Flickers bright, half a moment.

Then a sudden pummeling heaviness. Bruising. Suffocating.

_sorry Mom_

And all goes dark.


End file.
